


Call and Answer

by SecretGeniusShittyKnight (augopher)



Series: You Could Be My Luck [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (though how they get the dog is not entirely accurate. had to take a couple liberties), Brazilian Whiskey, Comic book novelist Whiskey, Deaf Whiskey, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Future Fic, I made up an NHL team the Baltimore Ospreys, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Injuries, PTSD Whiskey, Service Animals, nhl dex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/SecretGeniusShittyKnight
Summary: After Whiskey calls Dex while he's on a roadie to help him through a panic attack, Dex decides he would feel a lot better about being away from Whiskey if they had a dog.So enter Echo, Whiskey's new service dog, an engagement ring, and a plan.





	Call and Answer

**Author's Note:**

> For [Dexrarepairweek on tumblr](https://dexrarepairweek.tumblr.com/) Day 6: In any other reality: Any au- Since it's a future fic, I'm calling it an au.
> 
> This is a sequel to my longer Whiskey/Dex work "Between the Sacred Silence" which is also in this series, and though some of the references might not make tons of sense, you can read this as a standalone.

Dex tried to project a sense of calm through the Skype call. Focusing on taking even breaths, making sure his face remained friendly and open, he tried. Really, he did. The only problem?

 He was anything but calm.

 In fact, he was about to jump out of skin, skip out on curfew, and catch the first available flight he could to Baltimore. The coaches would probably bench him for several games as consequence, but this was more important than hockey. Guys on the team made sure when the Ospreys first signed him, that he knew his family should always be a priority. The managerial staff’s faces were serious when they said they wanted no player to ever miss the birth of their child, that their wives and girlfriends would depend on them for support. Heteronormativity aside, it gave him a sense of belonging. 

 When he’d first brought Whiskey to a game, Dex admitted he’d been nervous, but by that time, he’d been playing half a year and had figured out his team, the kind of people those men were. His nervousness, it turned out had been short lived, with the only bit of awkwardness coming from Lindström who’d missed the memo. The guy had begun talking at Whiskey a mile a minute before Dex could break free from his conversation and intervene. Stormy’s face grew an amusing shade of red when he realized that Whiskey had heard nothing of what he just said. Profuse apologies ensued with a promise to make sure he had someone around to interpret for him the next time he spoke to Whiskey, and that was the end of that.

 So all those things considered, the urge to leave right then nagged at Dex. Thankfully, this hotel in Denver had lightning fast Wi-Fi. So his Skype connection was perfect. **_In for four. Out for eight. In for four. Out for eight._**

 Rather than follow Dex’s lead, Whiskey clutched at his hair, fingers clawing at his scalp as he rocked back and forth on his body. His legs, bent at the knee, hugged his chest. It was hard to imagine someone, as muscular as Whiskey looking so small, but there was no denying it. Like this, Whiskey looked like a child. Thankfully, he was mostly present in that moment. Otherwise Dex was not sure what he would do. 

 They’d just bought their condo in downtown Baltimore a couple months ago, right before the start of Dex’s second season with the team, and they weren’t really good friends with any of their neighbors yet. It left him without anyone that he trusted close enough to come help out. 

  ** _I know your head’s a mess right now, but you need to focus on breathing. Please, tartaruguinha._**

 “I’m…trying,” Whiskey panted out. “I- I can’t-” Even in his frenzied state, he managed to keep eye contact with the screen. Thank goodness for that. Hell, Dex had watched both Bitty and Holster coach Jack and Ransom through a panic attack, and it seemed difficult even with a hearing person. If Whiskey couldn’t keep looking at him, Dex knew he’d have no way to help him being on the other side of the country.

 Realizing his breathing techniques were all but useless in the moment, he started sing-signing their song.

  ** _Would you believe with time comes grace?_**

**_In perfect light, in perfect place_ **

**_Every dream was mine to lose_ **

**_And that's what it took to lead me to you_ **

 So engrossed in his signing, he failed to notice the door to his hotel room opening until Treadmill spoke.

 “Oh sorry, Dex. Didn’t know you were on the phone,” he said, covering his eyes.

 “Relax, man. You didn’t interrupt Skype sex.” He resumed his conversation with Whiskey. **_That’s better. You coming back down?_**

 “Yeah. Think so.”

 Treadmill tapped him on the shoulder. “You want me to go for a few minutes while you finish up?”

 Dex shook his head. “All good man.” **_What triggered this panic attack? I mean, did something happen?_**

 Whiskey seemed to notice Dex was no longer alone in the room. **_I just um, fell asleep on the couch watching_** ** _Thor_** ** _. Someone in 4J slammed the door too hard, and it shook the wall behind the couch. Woke me up. The movie was over and something else was on. Don’t know what it was but the guy in the movie was beating his wife, and I just...well I called you._**

 Dex gave him a soft smile. **_I’m glad you did. I’m even more glad I was in the room to answer. You gonna be okay? Cause I can go talk to coach about flying home. Family emergency and all._**

 “No. Don’t want you to get scratched for the next couple games because of it. I’ll be good.”

  ** _You sure?_**

 “Yeah. Get some sleep, Gui.” He signed ‘ _I love you,’_ which Dex copied and then ended the call.

 Dex sighed before closing his laptop.

 “Everything okay?”

 Dex looked over at Treadmill, “Yes and no. But it’s fine. Got it taken care of I think.”

 “I remember the first time Bradley got sick when I was on a roadie. I was a wreck. I mean luckily, Annie is amazing and could handle anything, but I was still about to jump on a plane to fly home for a simple cold. It’s rough.”

 “Yeah. I it is. Tougher I think cause he’s by himself. Hasn’t really made close friends yet in Baltimore. He’s got some health concerns to worry about too, and… well I worry.”

 Treadmill unbuttoned his dress shirt, hanging it on the hanger next to his game day suit, before donning pajamas. “I hear you there. Need to talk about it? You know I’m a great listener.”

 He had a point there. Mark Treadway, or Treadmill to the team, was in his fourth year, and had taken Dex under his wing rookie year. They’d been put on the same D-line after Band-Aid went out with a concussion the end of last year, and Coach hadn’t separated them since. Hell, Treadmill was the first person Dex came out to on the team, the one that gave him courage to tell the team. Now he was Dex’s best friend on the team by far.  “I dunno. Not really my story to tell. Give me a second.”

 Dex grabbed his phone and fired a text to Whiskey.

  **To: Tartaruguinha**

**00:15**

**Hey, Mark’s worried about me. Thinks I might need to talk. But I didn’t want to say anything in case you didn’t want me to.**

 

Then, he waited for a response, which came several minutes later.

 

**From: Tartaruguinha**

**00:20**

**Yeah, you can tell him.**

 

**00:20**

**Shit. I didn’t even think to ask if you were okay? I know you get all frantic when you see me like that.**

 

**To: Tartaruguinha**

**00:21**

**How? How do you know that? I thought I hid it well.**

 

**From: Tartaruguinha**

**00:22**

**You do, and probably most people wouldn’t be able to tell. But it’s in your eyes. I know it worries you that you can’t really help. I’m glad Mark is there for you to talk to. Night, Guilhermino.**

 

Dex turned to Treadmill. “Yeah, I can talk about.”

 “You want one? My treat,” he said, opening the mini bar. “Pick your poison.”

 “Um. I don’t even know, man.”

 Treadmill chuckled as he grabbed a nip from the fridge. “Think fast.” He tossed the small bottle at him.

 Dex rolled his eyes as he looked at the label. “Ha ha ha. Give the ginger Fireball. Very funny.”

 “Seemed appropriate. Scoot over.” Treadmill nudged Dex over on his bed and flopped down beside him, cracking the seal on his own nip of Maker’s Mark. Then, he held the bottle out. “Cheers.”

 Dex tapped the next of his bottle against the other. “What are we toasting?”

 “Our crushing win over the Avs, your assist, and this heart to heart conversation we’re about to have.”

 

***

 

“Whatcha reading?” Treadmill asked when he returned to his seat beside Dex on the plane. He didn’t wait for a response before reading the computer screen over Dex’s shoulder.

 “You really have no personal space boundaries do you?” He pushed Treadmill’s face out of the way.

 “Nope. What can I say? It’s a character flaw. So spill it. You buying a dog?”

 Dex shrugged. “Thinking about it. You know last night wasn’t the first time that’s happened since we got together. I mean the first time I’ve not been around to help him through it. It’s just the first time since he graduated and been away from a support network. I keep telling Rafa he needs to come to more of the SAP events, but he’s cautious I guess.”

 Treadmill closed his eyes and covered his heart with his hand. “Spouse and partner events are vital for forming that support network. That’s it. I’m gonna tell Annie to take him out to dinner with her and Mouser’s wife.”

 “Thanks, man. But yeah. I’m looking into a service dog for him. I think it would be good for him. He used to have one when he was younger, but didn’t get a replacement when Hawkeye died.”

 “Dude, that is one awesome name for a dog. You should do it. Gonna go through a placement service or contact breeders for a dog that seems like the right temperament and privately train?”

 Dex rubbed his chin. “Probably the latter. We tried to get a hearing dog for Hannah once, and they were almost twenty grand and no guarantees she’d get approved. Hell, I’m pretty sure I could have trained my goat to be a service animal if it was allowed.”

 Treadmill’s booming laughter filled the plane. “Dex, Dear sweet young Willi-”

 “Stop,” Dex scowled at him though there was no heat behind his words.

 He stood up to address the rest of the team. “Gentlemen and esteemed ladies of the team medical staff, our dearest William here was a 4H kid. He owned a pet goat named Bernice.”

 Stormy threw his travel pillow at him. “Shut up, Treadmill! Some of us are trying to sleep.”

 Treadmill waved the pillow around in the air. “Not without your pillow you’re not!”

 “Okay, who was the fucker who gave him sugar past seven p.m.? You know he he turns into a hyper pain in the ass!” Toro called out from the back of the plane. “Been on the team two months and even _I_ know not to do that.”

 “That’s it, you guys are all disinvited from my next BBQ!” Treadmill stuck his tongue out at them and plopped back down in his seat. Then, he turned his attention back to Dex. “But seriously, I think that’s a really great idea.”

 “I have to talk with Dr. Martinez first. See if she thinks it would be good for him. I’ve gone to several sessions with him. Rafa said it was important that I be involved.”

 Treadmill pinched his cheek. “My little Dexy, growing up. Why I remember it like it was yesterday when he was a green rookie who couldn’t grow a playoff beard.” 

 Dex rolled his eyes. “I still can’t grow one. I’ll be lucky if I can grow one by thirty. My dad is just as ginger as I am and still has sparse facial hair.” 

 “Rough luck, dude. Would you like my mother to knit you a beard? She’d do it you know.” 

 Shaking his head, Dex chuckled. “No thanks. I’m good.” That’s it, Dex thought. He was gonna do it. He’d get Whiskey a dog.

 

***

 

“She likes you. She’s got just the best, most loyal and giving temperament. So perceptive about emotions. She’s not show quality-”

 “Why not?” Dex asked as the fawn colored, year old Doberman licked his hand.

 “Echo’s  too tall to meet the breed standard, taller than the standard for males even. She has no genetic conditions, and both parents had none either. She comes from a highly reputable breeder. Rather than sell her to a family, her breeder recognized she’d make a great service dog, and gave her to us. She’s gone through all her standard training for PTSD. When you first contacted me we started teaching her some simple tasks for hearing service dogs, which I understand was your secondary concern.”

 “Yes. Rafa is perfectly self-reliant in that respect. I mean, if she were trained to respond to all visual alarms and sounds of approaching cars, that would be the bulk of what she needed.”

 “That’s easily doable. Many of the psychiatric service dog skills are similar to that. She just needs specific training for your needs. Echo is extremely intelligent and eager to please. I realize this is a gift, so before you can formally adopt her, we’ll have to do a meeting and additional training with Rafael. We may be a small trainer of service dogs, and though we would love the extra business, we want her to be a good fit.”

 “Oh of course. Totally understandable. I imagine it’s rough on the dog if they need to be rehomed. Luckily though, Rafa had a service dog when he was a kid until fifteen. So he knows the ropes already.”

 Tammy, the owner of the placement agency, smiled. “And that’s the only reason I’m letting you reserve her without Rafa being here at all.”

 Dex thanked her and clutched the folder of adoption and training information tightly in his hands. As his fingers drummed on the steering wheel in his Dodge Ram, a million thoughts raced through his head. Getting a dog was like having kids right? Big commitment. Then again, it was for medical reasons…medical reasons that he’d discussed with Whiskey’s therapist and grandmother. 

 He sighed. Hell, they were each other’s primary medical proxy now. They’d bought a condo. Okay, Dex bought the condo, but Whiskey was on the title. They co-owned this truck that Whiskey never drove because he hated driving, hated learning to drive, even if Dex had been the one to teach him. Every decision he made now, he made with him in mind. 

 His father once told him that someday he’d find a man who filled his thoughts all the time, so often that Dex would find it difficult to think of anything else. He might feel this way about more than one man. however , his father also said the right one eventually wouldn’t fill Dex’s mind every waking moment, but he’d still think of him often. When that happened, it wouldn’t be as overwhelming as a new relationship, but every thought would be an important one. It was this man, that Dex would want forever.

 Though his father was admittedly a hopeless romantic, there was more than a kernel of truth to his words. Thinking about it now, Dex knew exactly what his dad had meant. He couldn’t imagine ever being with someone else, ever finding someone else who fit him the way Whiskey did, the way they fit _each other_. 

 When he finally managed to pull away from Skilled Paws, and make the long drive home from Gettysburg, he’d come to the realization that yes, he wanted Whiskey forever.

 

***

 

“Will,” Whiskey said in his sternest voice, “you know how much I hate not being able to see.”

 Dex sighed, and tapped him on the cheek, Whiskey’s cue to open his eyes. **_I never said you had to keep them closed if you got anxious. In fact,_** he signed smirking, **_I distinctly remember telling you to open them as soon as you felt worried._**

  ** _I know. I know. I was trying to be brave to protect the surprise. I trust you not to let me trip and fall into a well or something. It’s not like we can call for Lassie or anything._**

  ** _Funny you should mention Lassie. Follow me._** After shutting Whiskey’s passenger door, he reached down and laced their fingers together.

 “Skilled Paws. Will, are we getting a dog?”

 He dropped Whiskey’s hand. **_I...worry about you when I’m on the road. That night you called me, I was so scared. Like I knew you weren’t in physical danger, but I hated that you were alone through_** ** _all_** ** _of that._**

  ** _I wasn’t alone. I was talking to you._**

  ** _That’s not the same. And that wasn’t the first time you’d called me because you needed to work through some negative feelings. So, well I called Dr. Martinez and told her what I wanted to do, just to see if she thought it might be good for you._**

 Whiskey’s brows furrowed. **_You talked to my therapist about it but not me?_**

  ** _Technically, she’s my therapist too. Remember? I see her when I need to in order to talk through ways I can be a better partner in your PTSD fight. It can be stressful not knowing how to help you through a flashback sometimes. It’s like I want to rescue you from them, but I know I can’t and- well you feel pretty damn helpless._**

 The briefest hint of remorse flashed over his face. **_Yeah, I know. Yeah. I just thought…I can take care of myself you know?_**

  ** _I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I just, don’t want you to be alone when you need someone. If I’m away, I want you to feel safe. If it’s a long flashback, and you’re alone- the dog can bring you a bottle of water, some food. You told me that’s important._**

  ** _I know I did._**

  ** _Dogs, well you know how great they can be. There is one...she’s perfect. Humor me at least? If you decided another service dog is not for you, fine. No pressure. I promise._**

 Whiskey smiled. “Okay. Let’s go meet the dog.”

 Dex swallowed the lump in his throat. **_I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first. I did this mostly for you, and a little for me. I admit the peace of mind that will come with knowing- I wanted it to be a surprise, but I’m sorry. I’ll consult you first on all big decisions from now on._**

 The moment Whiskey saw Echo, his face lit up. “No way. Hawkeye had been a Dobie too. I don’t think I told you that.”

 Tammy smiled at him. “Ah I see you have experience with the breed already.” She waited for Dex to interpret before continuing the introduction. “Echo here is too big to be a show dog, but otherwise she’s the perfect Doberman. She aced her agility and obedience training.”

 Whiskey’s eyes bugged out when he read Dex’s signing. “Her name is Echo. Did you do that, Will?”

 Dex shook his head.

 “We named her that because she liked to mimic the other dogs as a pup. They’d bark, she’d bark back. They whimpered, she’d whimper. If the dogs gave a happy yip, so would she.”

 Whiskey stared at Dex’s hands long after they stopped moving. “Then it’s fate. Echo is one of the only Deaf superheroes. I _love_ Echo.” He knelt down and introduced himself to the dog. “Hi Echo, I’m Rafa. My boyfriend, Will, you met him already. He thinks you’d be good for me. I love how they kept your natural ears and tail. Such a pretty puppy.”

 When Echo took a small step forward and butted her head into Whiskey’s outstretched hand for a head rub, Dex was certain his heart grew as he watched Whiskey fall in love with the dog instantly.

 “Can I test her out? See how responds to me?” Whiskey asked.

  ** _She said of course._**

 “Oh, her commands...English?”

 “Yes, but we can teach her new ones in any language you’d like. She’s a fast learner.”

 Whiskey looked to Tammy after Dex finished. “Can you teach her in Portuguese? I...when I have a flashback, my grandmother and Will say I tend to speak in Portuguese.”

 “Sure. We can certainly do that,’ she said with a nod.

 As Whiskey took Echo out into the small field, Dex looked on. A sense of warmth coursed through his body; he felt lighter in his shoes. When Whiskey had expressed irritation at him deciding to seek out a service dog, he worried he’d caused irreparable damage to their relationship. Seeing the way Whiskey tested Echo right now, allayed his concerns. And by testing her out, Dex meant Whiskey, at that moment, was playing with her. Reaching into his pocket, Whiskey threw something out into the field . Dex expected him to play fetch with her. Instead, Whiskey sat down in the field and tried to look stressed. “Get it.”

 Echo ran after the grounding toy, a palm sized vibrating pillow that Dex knew Whiskey carried everywhere because it was discreet and need only be activated by pushing it up against his leg inside his pocket whenever he felt triggered by a situation. It was no thicker than a wallet and practically indestructible, and yet Echo carried it back to him as softly as she would a pup held by its scruff. She set it in his hand. “Lap Up.”

 Dex watched her climb into Whiskey’s lap, using her front paws to knead his thighs. Then, she licked his hand until Whiskey told her to stop. 

 “Good girl,” Whiskey said. “Come on. Let’s get you a treat.”

 “They look like a good fit,” Tammy told him. “She needs about four more months of training before she’s certifiable.”  She excused herself in order to go speak with Whiskey.

 Even without the official approval, Dex could tell they’d be getting Echo.

 

***

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dex grumbled when Whiskey and Echo walked in fresh from the groomers. He made sure Whiskey didn’t see him roll his eyes at the doggie nail polish. Though he didn’t understand it, what Whiskey did with Echo on her down time was not his concern. It seemed to make both them happy, so what harm did it do.

 “Look at this pretty girl, Will. Her nails match her vest.”

 Yes, the pink and purple nails matched her custom service vest. He had to admit that. **_They do. Is that...a new collar?_**

 “Yep. Impulse buy yesterday on my way home. It’s so sparkly, gives her some pizazz. Isn’t that right?” he scratched between her floppy ears. “Who’s a pretty girl? Yes you are.” He kissed the top of her head. “What time do you need to leave?”

  ** _Call time is at four.  Game’s at noon tomorrow. You still thinking about coming?_**

 Whiskey shook his head as he set Echo’s bowl with fresh water down on the floor. “No. I have to be in New York on Monday. Have a meeting with my developer and editor. Davis keeps trying to convince me that ‘you know, Renato, he’s a superhero. He doesn’t need to believe in labels. Blah, blah, blah” I’m like no, I took long enough to figure out what to call my own sexual orientation no need to make Lateralis subscribe to that same rule. There are enough Queer characters that get stuck with that bullshit. Nope. Renato is a proud pansexual man. Oh that reminds me- Need to email Janet see if she’s available to interpret for the meeting or if she can direct me to one of her colleagues. Gimme a sec okay?”

 “Hey, sweetie,” Dex said as he gave Echo a pat on the head. “He spoils you when you’re not working. You know that?”

 She answered his question by taking another drink of water.

 “Remember that thing we’ve been working on? Get Box.”

 Her ears perked up, and she trotted over to the patio door, wrapping her teeth around the pull cord on the sliding glass door to open it. Once out on the balcony, she lay down on the rug and used her paw to move the potted butterfly palm out of the way just enough for her to get her head behind it. She returned triumphant a few moments later, her jaws delicately carrying the ring box between them.

 Dex grabbed the box from her. “Good girl. Treat?” Her tail wagged while she waited for him to fetch one of the heart-shaped, beef flavored treats from the jar on the counter. “Such a good dog. Return Box.” 

 Just as obediently, she took the ring box back to its hiding place, making sure to move the plant back into place. She earned another treat for her efforts, and not a moment too soon, because Whiskey returned to the living room seconds later.

  ** _All good?_** Dex asked

  ** _Yeah. You wanna grab some lunch before you leave?_**

  ** _I’d love too, but I’d love a nap with you more._** Dex had only been in town for three days, two of which he’d barely seen Whiskey who’d been hard at work redrawing some panels. Honestly, as it came down to the wire with his debut graphic novel, that he’d been working on since frog year, almost ready for publishing, Dex found he was more stressed than Whiskey seemed to be. He recalled Whiskey’s face last Christmas when Dex picked him up from the airport, the largest smile he’d ever seen on his face, practically vibrating out of his skin in excitement. He’d assumed it was because Whiskey had been happy to see him. That, as it turned out, had only been partly true.

 Whiskey’s manuscript for _Lichtenberg Figure_ had remarkably been picked up by DC. Neither of them could believe it. Not because Whiskey wasn’t talented enough, on the contrary; he’d been accepted to three consecutive artist and author development workshops. Clearly he had the skills. No, it was that it happened so fast. They were both expecting Whiskey to be told no many times before a yes, if that ever came at all. First try, and DC had accepted his graphic novel. Unbelievable to say the least.

 So yeah, as Whiskey hurried to finish the last edits, it left Dex with more anxiety than he’d anticipated. Perhaps it was because it coincided with the last month and a half in the regular season, and unlike last year’s mediocre season, the Osprey were third in the conference standings right now. 

 Whiskey kissed his cheek. “Mmm. I can do that.” 

 

***

 

Dex took the pan of homemade lasagna out of the oven to cool. The candles on the kitchen table flickered, just waiting for the finishing touches on his place settings to be added. After several months of hard work with Echo to ensure she’d perform under pressure, and three hours of last minute preparation, Dex was certain that tonight’s events would go off without a hitch.

 He’d conned a recipe for quindim out of Vovó D, surprising himself with his first attempt at the coconut custard. Yes, this was going to be perfect. Perfect that is, until...Whiskey rushed into the room, carry on bag packed and shucking on his jacket.

 “Noooooo,” Whiskey whined when he saw the candlelit setting, “I’m going to strangle Davis. Strangle him good and hard for making me miss this.” 

  ** _What? You’re leaving?_**

 “Apparently they need me to come look at proofs. Why they couldn’t just overnight me copies I couldn’t figure out. So now, instead of eating this fabulous dinner, fabulous and fancy dinner for a Tuesday no less, I have to rush to Dulles and fly to New York. I mean Vovó D is gonna be excited to see me, but look,” he whined again, pointing to the table. “Sometimes I hate that man. I truly do. Who cares if he’s a damn good editor?” 

 Whiskey clipped Echo’s service vest on her, grabbing the small travel bag for her food and toys that always sat packed by the front door, and kissed Dex on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Guilhermino. I am. You look like you put a lot of work into this, and don’t worry. I will be sure to tell Davis just how much of a fucking inconvenience this damn meeting is. Save me some...is that quindim?” He groaned in frustration. “I am going to kill him.”

 After the flourish of activity that was Whiskey leaving in a huff, Echo in tow, Dex flopped down on the couch. He’d be more upset if this was the first time this had happened. The first attempt at the proposal was ruined when the building’s natural gas detector went off, forcing all the tenants out of the building while the utility company searched for the gas leak. That hadn’t been fun either. 

 The second attempt, Whiskey had come down with the flu and refused to leave the bed, even banishing Dex to the guest room for the duration of the illness so he didn’t get sick as well.

 Maybe, Dex thought, a perfect proposal wasn’t in the cards. Celebrate the everyday. Yeah, his dad would approve of that for sure.

  

***

 

“You look like you’re about to murder someone, Dex,” Treadmill said, bumping into him on the ice, splaying his gloved hand in the center of Dex’s chest to hold him back from the center for the Aero’s.

 “Pretty sure I am. If Majeski rushes Winner one more time, I will.”

 “Hey! I’m a big boy. I can handle that punk ass,” their goalie, Julien Gagné, shouted as he shook his stick at them. “Like he comes up to my collarbone. I’ll be fine.”

Treadmill rested his hand on Winner’s shoulder. “You are a big boy indeed, big and beautiful butterfly master.”

 “Um...thanks. I think.”

 “You go out there and keep being the beast of a goalie you are.”

 Winner shook his head. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of weird, Treadmill?”

 “Embrace the weird!” Treadmill wiggled his fingers at him. “It’s good for you.”

 Mouser went to take the face-off, winning it cleanly. He passed it back to Treadmill. 

 “Hey Dex, you got legs?” he asked, as Dex cycled behind him to land a check. 

 “Yeah.”

 “Go long!” 

 Dex scanned the ice seeking an opening, finding one in time for Treadmill’s pass to hit the blade of his stick perfectly, just as he caught Houston off-guard. See a breakaway wasn’t something he got often as a defenseman, preferring the stay-at-home approach to defense. However, Treadmill had been working with him on his two-way skills, and it wasn’t like Dex was a slow skater. Lighter than a lot of guys his height, he was actually pretty damn fast, had good explosive speed, which was one of the main reasons Baltimore sought him out, even though he was undrafted.

 A fancy Bobby Orr Escape and burst of speed out of the pivot left the last Aero player in the dust. Now there was only Dex and their goalie. His shot sailed over the guy’s left shoulder into the top corner of the net, tying the game at two goals apiece. His celly for this goal was far more exuberant than the one earlier in the period. This was his first two goal game of his NHL career; he lived it up.

 “Hey, twinkle toes, your mom buy those skates for you?”

 That’s it. Majeski was going down the first opportunity he had. “Watch it Magic Mike. This is a hockey game not a strip club. Save your mugging for your day job.”

 Majeski scowled at him, but come on. His name practically lent itself to the chirp. Who names their kid Mike when their last name is Majeski?

 “Sick goal, Dex.” Stormy clapped him on the back as Dex skated for the bench, making sure to wave up at the SAP’s box where he knew Whiskey and Echo were watching.

 The rest of the first period passed without much action, for the Osprey _or_ the Aeros. So when the second started, Dex was ready to make something happen. That something, it turned out, was not exactly what he had in mind.

 Eager to take the lead, an Aero defenseman let a blistering slapshot loose. As it sped towards Winner, it gained altitude, colliding with the shaft of someone’s stick before changing trajectory… right towards Dex’s face. He only managed to turn enough to avoid it striking him full on, before it smashed into his right cheek. The force of impact knocked him off balance and sent him to the ice, grabbing his face in pain. 

 Dex blinked a few times at the sheet of white in front of his face. Then, he pushed himself to his hands and knees to give himself time to regain his bearings. His vision wasn’t blurred, and he hadn’t his head on the way down. So a concussion seemed unlikely. What was likely, however, was stitches. The pool of blood on the ice where he’d landed had already begun to solidify where it sat on frozen ground. He took off his glove and felt his face, wincing as his fingers brushed not only his lip but cheek as well. 

 “Up you go, Dexy.” Mouser hefted him to his feet.. “Ouch. That’s a mess. No more Sexy Dexy for you.”

 Dex scoffed. “As if that was ever on the table before.”

 Mouser skated alongside him while they both left the ice, ready to catch him at a moment’s notice if he felt woozy. “Your better half might beg to differ.”

 Though it hurt, Dex chuckled. “Oh definitely.” Better half. He liked the sound of that. 

 The walk back to the trainer’s room felt like ages, and he was just glad that, aside from his bleeding face and the towel he pressed to his cheek, nothing felt out of the ordinary. Sammy, the team doctor agreed with him.

 “Not so bad, Poindexter,” she said, while she stitched up his face. “Only seven stitches and two in your lip. Could be worse. Could be a broken nose.”

 “Yeah. Wouldn’t want another strange looking physical feature. The giant ass ears are big enough.”

 “Hey! I told you to stop saying that. I like your ears.”

 Startled, he looked over to see Whiskey enter the room with Echo. **_Joking. You know that._**

 Once Sammy had finished, she deferred to Whiskey. “What do you think? I get seal of approval?” she asked slowly and clearly enough to him to read.

 Whiskey cupped Dex’s chin to survey her handiwork. “Yeah. You okay, Gui? That looked terrible from the stands. Pretty sure my heart stopped when you went down.”

 It didn’t take more than a second for Dex to notice the keyed-up look in Whiskey’s eyes, despite his attempt at a joke when he entered the room. **_It’s not bad. I was up off the ice in like seconds._**

 Whiskey stared at him, with unblinking eyes, for almost half a minute before he spoke. “No...you weren’t.”

  ** _What? Yes, I was._**

  ** _No. Mousouliotis was like kneeling next to you for over a minute before you let him help you up._**

  ** _Mouser? No way. I was just fine._**

  ** _Stop it!_**

 The angry yet worried and pained expression on Whiskey’s face made him change his tune immediately. **_Sorry. I scared you._**

 “Look. I played hockey too. I know the risks, but...if you...I-” **_You’re the love of my life. With the way I am, I know it’s unlikely I will feel like this about anyone else, doubt I’ll fall in love again. I...need you around for a long time, Gui. I almost had a panic attack. Echo had to climb in my lap._**

 Dex leaned forward and kissed Whiskey’s forehead, wincing as he did so. “Ouch,” he hissed. **_Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood._** Before he could return to the game, Sammy had to give him a clean bill of health. So while he waited, he considered Whiskey’s words. That, coupled with his three failed attempts at the perfect proposal put things in total clarity. 

 There was no such thing as perfect. There didn’t need to be. 

  ** _Rafa. I need you around for a long time too. Forever really._** He scratched his brow. **_This is- you are-_** “Fuck it,” he grumbled. **_Will you marry me?_**

 It took a couple moments for Whiskey to register what Dex had just asked, but once he did, his eyes bugged out of his head. “Wait, really?”

 Dex nodded.

 “You asked me that here, now?” he chuckled.

  ** _Well, believe me this isn’t what I’d planned either. First there was the gas leak, then the flu, then your fucking editor. I’m not perfect; neither are you. Why should I try to ask you in the most perfect way?_**

 “Absolutely,” Whiskey panted out, nodding emphatically.

  ** _I know right? It’s silly._**

 “No,” he shook his head and gingerly cupped Dex’s face, making sure to avoid the freshly sutured cuts, “that wasn’t me agreeing with you. That was my answer. I will absolutely marry you.”

 “Yeah?”

 “No one else I’d rather be with.”

 Sammy cleared her throat. “Sorry to break things up boys, but you’re good to get back to the game, Dex.”

 A bright pink blush bloomed on Whiskey’s cheeks, and Dex imagined his face looked even redder at being interrupted. Before they parted ways, Whiskey stopped him.

 “Don’t get hurt anymore this game. I plan on blowing your mind, and you, when we get home,” he said with a wink.

 

***

 

“You look like you were hit by a two by four, Dex.”

 “You might have noticed the puck hitting my face, Treadmill. Tends to cause some damage.”

 Treadmill rolled his eyes. “Yeah I know. So why then are smiling like a damn loon right now? You should be scowling and ready to kill.”

 Dex clapped him on the back. “Because as of three and a half minutes ago, I am an engaged man. Nothing. I repeat _nothing_ is gonna bring down my mood now.”

 Treadmill called over to the bench. “Hey guys! Our little William here finally popped the question!”

 “Oh yeah?” Stormy asked.

 “Said yes of course!” Dex grinned.

"Our brave William is getting married!" 

“Nice! Go out and win this game by getting a hatty!”

 When Dex’s one-timer from the point sailed into the net with two minutes left in the third, he realized that hat trick was the easiest thing he’d done all day.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [ tumblr](http://secretgeniusshittyknight.tumblr.com/)


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